


just can’t handle it, must get round to it

by Eminda



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But they don't want it, Drama, Gods are still somewhat regarded on Earth, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, very little drama a lot of cuteness, which is purely to not die of my fluff feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eminda/pseuds/Eminda
Summary: You can pray and pay the price for the divine attention. Tony won’t do it because he is Howard’s price, carelessly promised for many trinkets.The prompt of 'Arranged Marriage' ran away from me.





	just can’t handle it, must get round to it

**Author's Note:**

> My extremely late gift for tsukiharu on tumblr. She wanted arranged marriage and courting, but I've read so many great AM and didn't want to basically parasite on others' works, and then those two just basically did what they wanted. 
> 
> The title goes from Queen's _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_ which played on loop the whole time I edited it :D

_‘Greater than many you will fly.’_ They wrote. _’Higher than your wildest dreams you will be taken.’_ Was promised. _‘And for all will be price.’_

Except Tony won’t fly and pay the price because he _is_ Howard’s price, carelessly promised for many trinkets.

He knows it since before he can remember, that his father agreed to give away his own child for a chance to find Captain America.

He also knows that whatever his being a ‘price’ might entail so far it involves him being miserable, added with impressive substance abuse and whole weeks he spends in his workshop. Tony has his workshop only because of Obie, who allows him to invent, to _think_ , to create. Aside from his bots and JARVIS, he can converse only with Obie and Rhodey. The staff is afraid of him and the world seems to be focused entirely on his every move, analysing the rare precedent of a prayer being answered.

 

Tony meets Pep like that. She masks her gentle curiosity and the following pity very well and later they disappear whatsoever, and for that he will be forever grateful. This is the lifeline that allows him to keep going, to live while Howard Stark becomes a husk of himself with eyes still burning with unholy fire, with the spite of the damned. He is a recluse, immersed in his projects that promise to drain the Stark fortune. SI is all but given to Obadiah who likes to lure Tony into his dealings and Tony hires a maddeningly competent Virginia Potts to be left  with the only thing he really cares about - making stuff.

 

Soon enough, Pep is involved in SI far more than she is in Tony’s life, which is understandable, and somehow Tony finds himself looking at his new assistant. The guy is standing right in his workshop, looking friendly and soft around the edges. Then it turns out it’s impossible to chase this intruder away, his soft edges are bullshit and soon Tony finds himself snarking back at Adam.

He’s awesome, that guy who grasps Tony’s jargon and ideas and keeps up and gives as good as he gets and doesn’t take any bullshit thrown at him. Adam is putting Tony on edge, though, the puzzle pieces never quite fitting and something always missing in the picture.

 

Two or so months of amazing creative process later, Tony is doodling idly, having just showered and eaten, because Adam is a prude and won’t go anywhere near if Tony ‘is not presentable’.

This is the day everything goes to shit, because Howard decides to show his zombie face an hour before Obie storms in, demanding to see Tony.

Obie narrows his eyes at Adam, demanding to state his identity, while Adam looks bored and unimpressed, which is his default expression. In fact, he looks unnervingly interested in Howard, which kinda makes Tony hate them both (and, as usual, hate himself, because what else could he have expected, what did he think, he could be interest-)

“Address me in that manner once more and your tongue shall be buried ahead of you.”

This is a growl and everything falls silent. Adam smiles his thin smile and cocks his head.

“Who are you?” This is the first time Tony’s heard his father speak in years and his voice is scratchy, low. His eyes are still unnerving, portraying his unyielding focus. Adam keeps on with being unimpressed, though, only moves and paces around Howard, looking him up and down.

“Midgard’s grown disrespectful since I’ve last visited it.” He muses and changes, just like that, his hair growing longer from its stylish cut, skin pales and eyes grow green, so bright that Tony can actually discern the colour from across the room. Then _not-Adam_ is moving back towards Tony, his movements smoother, somehow more powerful and just as the transformation the fact that _Tony isn’t scared_ is baffling. He is actually relieved. This is some closure, finally, to (not) Adam’s unnerving edge and clearly, the bullshit ‘price’ thing is coming to its end.

“Are you Adam?” Tony asks carefully, his lizard brain alarmed at that prowl.

Head cocked, eyes laughing, the man smiles. “I am Loki.” Is all he replies.

Loki. Tony knows that name, he’s spent countless hours reading on any supernatural being known to the Internet and Loki is… interesting. Not really appropriate, in Tony’s opinion and surprising, given Howard’s prayer.

Apparently satisfied with whatever reaction on Tony’s face he sees Loki smiles again and sprawls into a chair, impressively pulling off his almost whore-like posture. “Now you may leave us alone.” He addresses both Obie and Howard and both dig their heels.

“I’m not leaving Tony with whoever you are.” Obie intones darkly and Howard steps forward, looking almost feverish.

“Who are you to appear in my home and demand this after making me wait for so many years!” He almost shouts and his voice breaks slightly out of disuse.

Loki sighs irritably. “Mages of Asgard cannot break a prayer-bound promise. Your demand was heard and it was satisfied - your mind was clear and fast for many years, was it not?” He waves dismissively as Howard opens his mouth. “Don’t let your hubris blind you, mortal. No one on Midgard is able to go weeks without any sleep and yet your thinking was unhindered. Such was the blessing given to you. Whatever you decided to do with it concerns me not and I am beginning to tire of your presence.” He smiles at the procured indignation and turns to Obie. “And you don’t have to worry, mayhaps if the Fates favour us we can all go to Afghanistan.”

At that Obie pales strangely and seems to deflate. Looking bored, Loki switches his gaze to Tony. “This is getting ridiculous. I will await in your workroom.”

Left alone and gaping at the empty chair, Tony scrambles away from Howard’s burning glare and Obie’s thoughtful one. As stated, Loki is in his workshop, occupying his usual place with his newfound dramatic flair.

 

Loki patiently sits through Tony’s almost-meltdown and only blinks at the following barrage of questions. It happens that Loki is a prince and a mage (ha! Tony will need far more than a couple of parlor tricks to even contain his laughter, never mind taking this seriously) and the Head Seidrmaster in Asgard. It doesn’t really matter except that it totally does, because apparently Howard’s half-assed (by Loki’s standards) prayer reached one of those seidr-people and for whatever reason they decided to go along.

“A prayer gives a remarkable bout of power, of happiness.” Loki explains patiently, giving off surprisingly Pepper-like vibes. “An inexperienced mage has to be exceptionally strong of will to resist that. Uldr was not.”

Tony snorts. He doesn’t really care (he does, a little, Loki is a living story and also a lot of people would literally give their limb for a chance to talk to him).

“When I found out about the deal it was too late.” Loki purses his lips unhappily, eyes becoming hard. “And the duty of overseeing this fell to me.” He makes a vague gesture with his left hand. “I admit I have forgotten about the Midgardian lifespan and allowed myself to linger a bit too long.”

Tony huffs, asks about the lifespan thing and blinks at the answer. _Five thousand Asgard’s years_ , Loki says, _more for a mage._ Asgard’s year is nearly four of Earth’s.

Talk about unimaginable scales, Tony honestly can’t comprehend the life where decades are nothing, where your milestones are _hundreds_.

His mind blanks out a bit at that and when Tony finally scrambles his brains back in order he finds himself alone.

 

There is very little time for him to begin feeling abandoned or offended because soon he hears the commotion. By the time Tony decides to investigate he is again in Loki’s company and for a change the other man looks _pleased_.

 

The following days are, for a lack of a better word, busy. Everyone has a lot to do; Howard is trying to pin Loki down and get something from him, Loki vanishes and appears as he pleases, his mood changing just as suddenly. Obie is suspiciously docile while Pep is busy arranging the business so that it belongs to Tony. That is a sudden development and apparently both Howard and Obie are okay with Loki basically telling them what to do. Well, not really, Howard is all of a sudden a lot more present in the mansion and Tony’s life. Tony is busy planning building his own tower where he will live as far from this gloomy place as possible. He discovers that managing a company is fucking hard, especially if you just basically got it and the attention he thought he is accustomed to is even more intense and seemingly every person in the world wants something from you.

Loki doesn’t help. In fact, Loki revels in the chaos, which is unsurprising, given his title. He refuses to accept numerous invitations or even pleas coming for him. At the same time, he somehow helps Tony, because navigating people is hard and Loki knows how it’s done. It’s pleasant, even, that change of pace and scenery, the constant challenge and, most importantly, the freedom. For the first time Tony is able to get out, to do as he chooses and give a finger to anyone objecting. Not always and not really, but he moves out and never looks back.

 

***

 

“What you are describing is marriage.” Tony says flatly, looking down at Loki. Which is only because he’s standing six feet higher, overseeing the construction of his tower. Because now he can build himself a fucking tower.

“Yes, in your language and culture that is the closest concept.” Loki allows and returns the look. He manages to stare Tony down, the fucker. “But you need to take into consideration that ‘the marriage’ as you know it is just the most long lived and respected form of union on Midgard, which is untrue for most of the other Realms. I’ve been married by Aesir customs, married twice.” He jumps to Tony, covering fifteen feet in one effortless leap. “What the All-Father demands is different.”

“I don’t care.”

Tony doesn’t, he doesn’t care about some medieval crap with predestiny and respectful unions.

“‘Medieval.’” Loki spits. “Your charming egotism will help in your business, I think.” He smiles toothily at Tony’s outraged grimace. “Your conservative and limited brain is so busy clutching at comforting concepts you can’t even hear me properly.”

“Conservative and limited?” Tony hisses in disbelief, because wow. “Explain how is your magic-bound shit is not limited? It was without my fucking consent and now I need to fucking marry you because some guy I don’t even believe exists says so!”

“Consent.” Loki snorts. “Don’t cheapen the word. Your father consented for you, as is your land’s custom. It can’t be marriage because I am not a lawful citizen of Midgard so this argument is obsolete. And it’s not marriage by the Asgard’s law, Anthony.”

“Yes, we are just bound by your voodoo shit and take responsibility for each other’s actions. Wow, that’s not marriage at all.”

Loki’s eyes narrow and face relaxes, which is beyond alarming, he’s on his way to being livid.

“Not by Asgard’s law.” He repeats in a soft, calm voice. “And what a hardship it will be, with that law not recognized on Midgard and as such you being a man free to pursue whatever fancy might strike you. Ah, what a burden to be protected by the royal House of Odin, to have an opportunity to learn the ways other realms live and evolve, to perfect your inventions in ways unimaginable to any on Midgard.” He gives a tender smile, which gives an unpleasant contrast to the offended fury of his glare. “But that’s a _scientist’s_ reasoning, so what am I even thinking?”

And, because he loves having the last word, Loki disappears. Tony swears loudly and explicitly, hoping that the words will reach their target.

 

Loki doesn’t pop out the following day, or week, or _month._ Tony goes from scared to angry to repentant to offended to furious.

By the time the bastard decides to finally show his face the Tower is ready, a shiny, perfect thing better than anything Tony could’ve dream of. In a fit, tied in knots about Loki’s absence, he decided to stop with the weapons and now is busy dealing with the fallout. The press hounds him, Obie keeps throwing him dark looks and even always flawless Pep looks harried.

Tony arranges for a new PA and that is exactly when a timid-looking guy decides to throw a fucking grenade at him. Tony is too busy staring as the grenade _is being disintegrated_ by a _golden mist_ to hear the crunch of bones.

He looks up at Pep’s scream and follows the guy as he drops to Loki’s feet, his head turned almost 180. There’s a moment of silence and they are alone again, body vanishing along with Loki.

“You fucking motherfucker.” Tony growls, which is a bit lame, but whatever. What the fuck is he thinking, disappearing and then-

Loki is here again, with a loud, uncharacteristic noise. He looks at Pepper and throws _another_ body at her feet.

“I though corporate espionage is against the law on Midgard.” He sneers, nudging at the woman. “Or do you invite killers willfully?”

Pepper, bless her, calms down immediately and peers down at the woman, who, Tony can see now, is alive and just unconscious.

“Are you bleeding?” Is what she asks next and Tony snaps his eyes higher. Loki’s lips press together and it brings out the unhealthy grayness of his face.

“Look out for her.” Is his reply.

“Wait a second.” Tony springs into action, cursing himself for standing there like an idiot. Loki picks up the woman and gives Tony an unimpressed stare.

“We need to talk”. Tony says quickly but it’s too late.

He curses again and turns away from Pep’s curious and pitying eyes.

Fucker, selfish fucker, that Loki.

Tony doesn’t bother with goodbye, just goes to his fabulous penthouse and pulls the feed. He tells himself it’s purely to learn who wants him dead but in truth he concentrates on Loki as he appears in a burst of sparks and grasps the man’s head, long fingers sure, experienced. Loki sways a little as he pick the body up and sways again when he reappears with the woman - who Tony needs to investigate also - and Loki’s never swayed, even when he played his part as Adam.

He hates himself for the fact that all of his anger and indignation disappear and now there is only worry and brittle hope, stronger than ever, because Loki protected him, he obviously came because that golden thingy alerted him and the fact that Tony was, err, spelled, apparently, is a bit condescending but mostly returns the warmth missing since after their last conversation.

Tony hates that he is mostly okay with the weird not-really-marriage thing because it will give him an added leverage to pin Loki down and explore other planets, fuck that, _other star systems_ , Tony was really having a childish reaction. Maybe he needed the time to stew and think this shit over, who knows. Now he just hopes that Loki’s alright and comes back soon. He chases the thoughts of _‘six months are nothing to his fifteen thousand years, he can disappear for a year this time’_ away with effort. Tony hopes.

 

“Sir.” JARVIS wakes him gently. “Sir, you have a guest.”

“Whatever.” Tony yawns, tries to stretch his neck.

“It’s Mr Odinson.” J says with a hint of gentle reproach and Tony bolts out of his chair.

“The living room, sir.” JARVIS provides.

Loki is standing in front of the glass wall (because Tony’s had enough of the mansion’s semi-darkness), cutting an impressive figure against the windows. For the first time he’s dressed in not Earth’s clothes. There is a lot of leather and what looks like gold designs on his boots and sleeves.

At Tony’s steps Loki turns around, revealing more gold on his high collar and what looks like a stylized breastplate. He looks kinda like the prince he claims to be.

“You needed to talk.” Loki says evenly, keen eyes watching as Tony moves forward and politely looks at Loki’s face and not his alien clothes.

“Yeah, well.” This is so uncomfortable, fuck. “Want a drink?”

After a moment of consideration Loki inclines his head. His gaze presses on Tony as he moves to the bar and waves in the direction of the couch, hoping the gesture is welcoming and effortless, not dismissive.

Loki is surprisingly omnivorous so Tony takes a decanter of whiskey, because there’s no way he’s living through this conversation sober. By the time he makes it to the chair Loki’s already settled, more collected than his usual sprawl of limbs.

“I have conversed with JARVIS briefly.” Loki starts and Tony, who was just a second ago busy manning up to apologize, is blindsided a bit. “He has new servers and capacity, isn’t he better as your assistant?”

The question is voiced with a gentle curiosity, which is very polite, and Tony _hates_ it. He snorts and waves his glass.

“But _I_ programmed J and I can silent him. That’s sometimes counterproductive.”

He waits for a snort or a derisive smile at ‘counterproductive’, but it never comes and Tony frowns. “C’mon, what’s with that diplomatic stuff?” He can’t quite bring himself to apologize, not because he doesn’t feel guilty, but because- Tony doesn’t even know himself.

Loki’s eyes are unnaturally green and very bright.

“What do you wish to talk about?”

Honestly, sincerely, Tony just _can’t_. What the fuck is up with that bastard?

“What do you think? Where were you, why the fuck did you just leave and didn’t bother to, I don’t know, visit and rant at me? What’s that misty thing and _what the fuck did it do to a grenade_? Why weren’t the pen Pep threw at me three weeks ago misted away? Are you alright? Because you didn’t look all that great just this morning. Where did you take that guy and I really want to investigate, you know, my attempted assassination. And is all that shit with not-marriage still valid or  you just decided to fuck off for good?”

Loki’s brows shoot up at that last part and admittedly Tony has revealed a bit more than he intended.

“Hmm.” Loki visibly relaxes, his body sprawling more and face more open. He looks up. “In order: I think there are multiple questions you want to talk about, I have left because there were too many hurtful words on my mind and some blows are easy to make and hard to recover from.” Loki’s eyes are heavy under his slight frown. “I had no desire to make a visit for _a quarrel_ and I have duties I needed to attend to on top of that. I left a protection spell working and it is somewhat sentient so it couldn’t react violently to the Lady Pepper’s pen. I am well, the alert came in a bit of situation but the Aesir are more resilient than you of Midgard and any wounds I received are healed by now. Your assailant's body is kept for future purposes and the union still needs to take place.”

“ _Somewhat sentient?”_ Tony repeats and forces himself back on track. “Well, thanks for holding back, I suppose.” He doesn’t know what to say. Tony feel stupidly grateful for that, shit, he is angry but he’s also glad that Loki didn’t eviscerate him, because he very well can, both with words and, apparently, with his bare hands, fuck. Tony just knows that he’s most likely will rewatch the footage of this evening when Loki leaves. With that thought in mind he blurts. “Are you staying over? There’s a floor for you.”

He wants to disappear as soon as he says that, but Loki brightens a bit, not a hint of derision on his face. “A floor for me?” He smiles, but it’s a pleased smile.

“Yeah, well, aren’t you a prince?” Tony tries for lighthearted. It was a foregone thing in his planning, even after Loki decided to hide his face, that there would be a place for him, and what a joke to give a _guest room_ when Tony has the whole Tower and it’s Loki.

“Show me.” Loki says, as he always has, when he was Adam and demanded to know everything about Tony’s work and when he is Loki and wants to know everything about Tony’s life.

 

Loki likes his floor, which is a bit strange, because Tony had no idea what to do with the interior and left it as it is - bare walls, which makes him a bit of a dumbass to invite a guest to sleep on cement floor.

Still, Loki is obviously pleased. “Ah, and can I raise the walls as I see fit?”

Tony shrugs at that, because whatever. “You have to let me get J’s sensors here, though.”

“I’m afraid my seidr will intervene with their workings anyway, but I’ll think of something if that’s necessary.” Loki allows, making a dismissive gesture and successfully making every wall disappear. Tony blinks at the sudden illusion of low ceiling and turns around in light panic. Thankfully, the elevator is still present.

“Are you competing with the palace of Asgard, Anthony?” Loki asks with a smile as he steps around, looking back and forth. There are multiple shiny balls springing from his hands and floating around and giving the surroundings a warm hue.

“I’m Tony Stark.” Tony huffs in reply, which sounds a bit stupid but Loki nods in understanding. Then he makes a forceful step, more like a stomp and the space begins to morph.

In a matter of minutes they are standing in an inviting hall, with light walls and ceiling adorned with what looks like multiple polished crystals. Loki disappears into a wide, large arc of pale stone and by the time Tony catches up the next room is transformed also, there is a large black bowl in the middle, made of what appears to be semi-transparent rock.

“Is it one of your customs?” Tony calls while Loki is busy creating low padded stools or something. At the inquiring glance Tony shrugs and motions at the bowl. “I know you are not vikings but you must drink a lot.” The bowl is easily seven feet in diameter.

Loki looks uncommonly bewildered then he huffs. “It’s a _fireplace_ , Anthony.”

“A- A what? It’s not a fireproof room!”

He receives an impressive eye roll in reply. Loki settles on a very soft-looking seat and gives Tony one last dirty look before dumping firewood and with a snap of fingers there is fire. Bright golden light which lights the bowl from the inside, making it rich red with deep blue streaks running roots-like from the bottom of the bowl.

“There will be no smoke.” Loki says, looking at the ceiling intently. There is nothing to see for a mortal eye but aside from pleasant warmth there is no smell or other sign of open fire. Tony settles closer to Loki and stares at the crackling fire.

“You can’t create matter.” He says at last because he can’t really think of anything else.

“Of course not.” Loki replies. “The law of Universe doesn’t work like that.”

“Right. Because you knew physics so well.”

It was Tony who had to explain everything to him, even if Loki is an exceptionally fast learner.

“Oh, do be more condescending. I never learned Midgard’s sciences and why would I? You have only recently began to get closer to understanding the world around you, while Svartalfar scholars knew how to create local singularities long before the birth of _eucumene_ .” Loki snorts gently at the last word. “To be able to change the Universe at will one must understand how it works; to apply pressure at exactly the right point in the exact amount. This is what a mage is, and magic as you so charmingly laugh at is nothing like what I grew up learning. We do not deal in toad hearts or whatever your tales concocted. We study the workings of seidr and the World Tree and work with the knowledge we gather, we do not _hope_ for a result.”

“So. Still physics.” Tony grins at Loki’s huff and nudges a bit closer. “And what were you doing? How did you make all this stuff?”

“I did not make the fireholder. I fetched it from my workroom, such items are not created overnight. Mostly I just rearranged the matter residing here. There will be more work to make the floor to my liking, but it will do for now.”

“Wow, your mageness, you’re easy to please.” Tony gives the bare room a telling look and grins. He missed this.

“I slept on bare stone or wet shore many a time. This is no hardship.”

“Sure, Loki Grills, as you say.” Then, after a pause, Tony itches again. “So, you can take whatever you want from wherever?”

Loki scrunches his nose. “I need to be familiar with the place and with the item in question; my workroom is imbued with my seidr, it’s the place I know the best in all the Realms, as such concentrating on it and reaching out is no hardship. Otherwise it’s easier to shift somewhere and extract what is needed by hand. Small items I carry around.” He makes a smooth gesture rotating his wrist and there is a bottle in his hand.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket dimension?” Tony asks, because. Because.

“You call it that, yes.” Loki nods. “But it’s more like a cluster of bends in space, individual for each item. It’s easier that way.”

Tony blinks at him, what the fuck, you bastard, how could you- it hits him suddenly that Loki’s been _teleporting_ this whole time and apparently Tony’s been so deep in denial that he wrote it off as some bullshit pseudo-god power, but no, Loki has just been bending time and space and leaping light years away and back with just a thought.

“Do it again!” Tony demands, hopping closer and concentrating solely on Loki’s hands. He has a moment to hate himself for sounding like an eager kid (he _feels_ like an eager kid, but that’s a heartbreak for another time), then Loki lifts both hands and makes a flowing, rotating gesture, then grasps as a book appears out of thin air. He passes it to Tony, who takes it with a rare reverence.

The book is solid. Quite heavy for its size, no thicker than Tony’s thumb and bound in an unknown material with three clasps made of dull red metal. They are completely smooth without a hint of a slit and flow into the cover seamlessly.

Maybe the questions are apparent on Tony’s face, because Loki reaches and expertly flicks open the clasps.

“This is my latest, ah,” he frowns, looking for the word, “ _dissertation_ , you might say. It’s a standard protection for spell-filled writings, they can be violent without proper containment.”

Tony feels like Harry Potter, only rich and insanely smart and having not mumbo-jumbo words but extraphysics in front of him. Some pages are nothing but symbols and they are obviously words but there are often blocks of completely different symbols. Sometimes there are diagrams, one page opens by itself and Loki has to slap it and burn the drawing back into the page. The lines make Tony’s brain hurt a bit because they are clearly not even _three-dimensional_.

“Enough.” Loki says gently and takes the book back. He slaps it closed with force and the clasps morph together. Tony wants it back, his own, science fairytale literally in his hands.

The book disappears again and instead Loki holds Tony’s favorite mug. He turns it around in his hands, drums his fingers along the rim and then gives it to the owner.

“Here.” He says with a slight smile. “It will contain four times its measure of liquid and will keep it of starting temperature.”

Tony stares at him of a moment, then his gaze snaps to the unassuming (and now very clean, of course) mug, then back. Then Tony frantically looks around, but of course there is nothing here and he bolts to the elevator. The crystals in the first hall twinkle in rhythm with their gentle shift in brightness but Tony sees and hears none, he is busy tearing down to his kitchen and firing commands at Jarvis, who is not very pleased at having a whole floor basically cut out from his reach.

“Later, J.” Tony promises as he dumps iced water into the mug and watches it disappear. The bottom of the mug is foggy and Tony can’t see where and how the water goes but after a while it begins to fill and then he dumps the water in the sink, watching as it flows.

It’s not a real science test, but Tony is still feeling like a kid and he feels ridiculously happy, as if he’s received a gift he asked but didn’t believe he’d get. Except he couldn’t even _ask_ for that, that casual, fast and effortless bending of all the laws he knows.

“It will contain solid objects according to its visible size and expel the dirt after a while.” Loki says from behind Tony, startling the man. “For safety concerns I spelled it unbreakable in usual circumstances, but be aware that upon destruction the contained space will enlarge and then implode, affecting at least seven feet of surroundings. Concentrating laser on it will most likely result in destruction.”

Tony gapes at him and carefully places the mug on the counter. Suddenly he can see the awkwardness in Loki, in the way he stands and patiently waits for the reaction, his face relaxed but eyes alert and ready. Tony doesn’t know what it is Loki is preparing himself for, doesn’t want to know why he is so uncomfortable with giving gifts but there is too much in his chest to contain so he dives forward and gives Loki a hug.

It’s an awkward thing, marred by Tony’s indignation at Loki’s too tall frame and the fact that he isn’t used to being physical, but it beats _talking about problems_ , so Tony grasps at the soft texture of Loki’s jacket and after a moment a hand is placed carefully on his shoulder. It doesn’t press him closer but neither is it pulling him back so that’s a win.

 

From that point on it’s like the floodgates are open and Tony can’t stop reaching out and touching. It takes some time to notice and some more time to analyse and in the end it’s Jarv who concludes that it’s most likely that sir’s actions are a result from severe touch starvation. Well, that explains it.

Actually, no, it doesn’t explain Tony’s childlike joy when the whole business with the ‘union’ is explained properly, doesn’t explain a sneaky thought at the back of his mind that Loki can’t really go away and abandon Tony. It’s an unpleasant arrangement in concept but does Tony care? Not in the least, not anymore. From what he saw Loki enjoys his company and it’s very much reciprocated, so that’s it.

The whole ordeal is far less impressive than Tony’s expected, what with Loki’s title and big words about magic. There is the teleportation (which is severely unpleasant on what feels like molecular level) and Loki’s determined eyes as he takes Tony’s hand and places it on a warm bluish panel in a column of solid black stone.

“Recognized.” A solemn woman nods and a dozen of figures go on their business. That’s it, the big thing Loki was raving about is summed in a couple of seconds, because ‘of course, Anthony, the ceremony or any redundant flair is harmful to the dealings of seidr’ (so cute, there is not redundant flair).

Tony has much larger things to concentrate on, like for example the strong possibility that his sexuality has taken an abrupt one eighty and there is a whole list of moments normal at first but which are constantly on the back on his mind, like milestones leading to the inevitable.

There was that awkward hug in his kitchen, the first time Loki laughed freely, that day they spent under the invisibility spell, the purple spires of Svartalfheim, Loki’s hunting outfit and his dress armor which to be fair Tony has seen maybe a fraction of a second, because he kinda needed help for his latest experiment and was exploiting his right to call. Loki wasn’t impressed and left immediately; Tony pulled the feed to try and catch the moment of his arrival and, well. He wasn’t aware Asgard’s fashion trends tended towards ‘obscene’ or ‘obscenely revealing’.

Despite the numerous willing women he’s picked up in blatant protest, Tony feels wrong-footed somehow, unable to even recognize his attraction. He _knows_ he’s getting clingier, abusing Loki’s goodwill and patience, but it’s just _good_. Tony will stop as soon as he’s told to, until then, he’ll take what he can.

This stellar plan is destroyed by the betrayal of Tony’s own body. He’s busy listening to Loki explaining how their flying ships work, maintaining just enough brainpower to ask appropriate questions now and then, while most of the focus is directed at the way Loki’s chest expands on inhales and rumbles when he speaks. After a while there is a pause and Loki says, “Is that particular topic arousing or are you just in the mood?”

Tony freezes, but it’s too late, he’s pressed himself close so thoroughly that there is no way for misinterpretation. For a couple of agonizing moments he keeps still in a childish hope that if he wishes for it hard enough it will all disappear - his boner, Loki’s attention and the fact that he can’t even jerk off properly anymore, because there is one person on his mind and he’s afraid of mind reading.

Not getting an answer Loki simply lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder, a heavy, grounding presence and it’s electrifying. At the resulting shudder, the mage exhales softly.

“Or there is that.” He says nonsensically and his hand travels to Tony’s jawbone, a steady torture. Loki’s eyes are always attentive, but this is something else; in the back of Tony’s mind there is a thought that their position is ridiculous and more than resembling covers for numerous trash romantic novels the maids used to read and think their hid so well. Then Loki kisses and Tony comes alive, scrambling forward a bit to align them better and put his hands everywhere at once. He doesn’t know what he wants but that apparently it was a bit too long and if there isn’t sex in the immediate future there would be violence.

Only Loki delivers, oh he does; it is an interesting experience to be the one pampered and indulged: the prep takes hours, literally, and afterwards Tony just lies in a fucked out haze, carding his fingers through Loki’s hair lazily.

It’s a pity his brain doesn’t really shut up for long and soon he twitches restlessly, making the body above stir. Loki frowns down in disapproval, the usual sharpness of his gaze tempered. Tony grins and it’s most likely that his grin is dopey but who cares.

“Can we have science pillow talk? Because that’s the best and about those ships-”

Loki springs into action, one second he is giving Tony an Unimpressed Eyebrow, all relaxed and pliant, the next the mage is crouching over, eyes intent, promising. The kiss he delivers is no less brain-numbing than the first one and Tony pants a little, feeling, to his horror, the beginnings of erection.

“Are you going to kill me with sex? I’m not sure I’ll live through it right now.” Sure, Loki is a master of edging and he makes the torment totally worth it and more, but there are things mortal men are just not able to do.

“Oh, well, we’ll have to do something about that.” Loki shrugs a little, smug and unrepentant; he doesn’t take things further, though, just pins Tony with his weight and frowns a bit.

“I must admit I intended to kill you initially.”

There we go, away with that arousal, thank you, Loki.

“Um, what?”

The mage shrugs minutely. “It seemed like a mercy to us both; I had no intention to be shackled to some mortal imbecile and you are too fragile and young to take to the court.” He makes a pause, visibly fighting with the following words. “Good thing you are not what I expected.”

“Aww.” Tony drawls, immediately relaxing. Maybe he’s spent too much time with the bastard, or maybe he’s just wired wrong but he accepts the admission for what it is: it’s silly to expect different logic from Loki, thousands years old warrior and diplomat of warriors. “I’m so charming the tall, dark and murderous decided against offing me.”

“Am I not handsome?” Loki sniffs, but he smiles a bit, eyes bright and more relaxed than ever.

“You know you are, I’m not feeding your ego. Seriously though, that’s some Twilight shit.” Tony laughs and laughs more when he receives a gentle bite in reprimand. “Yes, I managed to snatch a magical immortal rich prince! That calls for screen adaptation with inaccurate portrayal of sex. I’m too fabulous for a bland cast, though.” He grins unabashedly at Loki’s restrained mirth. “Also, I have multiple MIT degrees and hold patents for most of SI’s innovations, but that’s all trivia.”

“Oh, yes, clearly I was struck with a sense of _Fate.”_ Loki adds wryly.

“Uh-huh. And spent so much time in disguise because you are adorably shy. Shy will do instead of you snapping necks with your bare hands and returning from hunts covered in blood and guts.”

“That happens rarer than you are inclined to think.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean you make a pretty sight.” Tony hums, absurdly happy and content. “On that matter, why _Adam_?”

Loki blinks in silent question.

“I mean, there is a perfectly acceptable Luke, for example.”

“ _Luke_ .” Loki deadpans. “If we ever go in disguise anywhere on Midgard I’ll make sure to create an appropriate alias, _Tommy_.”

Tony scrunches his nose. Like that, it _does_ sound stupid. “Point taken. So you just picked up a random name?”

“Pretty much, _Toby_.”

“Oh, shut up.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ahaha, the initial draft was around 20 000 words of disjoined notes dealing with shit I have no patience towards now, like Obadiah, Iron Man armor, Howard, Fury, Natasha, Shield, Loki-Jotun problem, Asgard, Egyptian and Greek deities (I just threw it away, because fleshing out at the beginning stages was just under 6000 words and I’m just, eeeeeh, deadline, Oel). Yes, I thought of it. No, I couldn’t fit it all in without it taking a couple of months and growing into multi-chap. One day, maybe, who knows.  


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